The Enchanted Templar
by PheonRen
Summary: A requested story written based on the Bewitched Templar encounter in the Tower. Templar Drass' alternate ending? Fluffy, mature. m/f
1. Chapter 1

Dragon Age and all characters and concepts associated with it belong to BioWare and EA games, as well as their respective trademarks.

_Please take note that this story, as are many I post here, is in a simple rough draft format and hasn't been edited. It is a requested story and intended simply for the requester to enjoy... I'm posting it here in case others might enjoy it, too. I do so love to hear when people enjoy it, and I thrill with every time someone takes their time to post a review. But for other reviews please keep in mind that it's the roughest of rough drafts, lol._

Part 1: The Enchanted Templar

Andrew Drass had always been a Templar. He had probably popped out of the womb in heavy plate armor. Raised by the Chantry, it had just been normal for the orphaned Drass to become a Templar. That was the way it went, and it was that simple. Raised by the Chantry meant becoming a Templar—suited or not.

The other Templars took their duties very seriously. They believed they were saving the world, and they were unflinchingly pious. They were willing and almost eager to go to their deaths in the "calling" of protecting the world from mages.

Ser Drass, however, didn't see things that way. Not at all.

But he knew the truth. You either made yourself suited to be a Templar, or you were killed off through the simple expedience of using you as fodder in blood mage hunts.

But he couldn't help it. He couldn't hide that he hated it with his whole heart.

He was, in short, a glorified jailor. And although he didn't know what he did want, he knew that he didn't want to be doing this. He had taken vows, and now he would never know the touch of a woman. He had taken vows and now he had to keep young, innocent children prisoner in a cold stone castle.

All for the "greater good."

He stood in his armor, the chill seeping through it and into his very bones. Soon, he would be chasing hedge mages through the Bannorn, he knew. His attitude of not wanting to hold people hostage—even for their own good—was highly inappropriate and unwelcome.

He shifted. He was thirty years old, and he was put in charge of the young women's wing of the tower. Was Gregoior an idiot? Did he not see these girls? It was foolishness to put men who could still function as men into this place as guards. Jailors.

Especially given that Miranne was here. That was the third time that she'd walked past. She was what, twenty? Maybe twenty-one. She was slender and willowy, and she was his prisoner.

He hated it. He hated seeing her timid, shy form walk past all day. She had grown up in this place, here almost as long as he had been. She'd gone from being a shy, terrified child to being a shy, terrified woman.

And he wasn't supposed to look at her. He was supposed to look forward. He was supposed to look straight ahead, never flinch, never question.

Never ogle. Definitely, for sure, never ogle!


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2: The Enchanted Templar

Finally, he could sit down. He eased into the desk in the young women's wing office. It was lights out in a half hour. Any minute, Wynne would come with a bed count… how many young ladies were where they were supposed to be and if any were missing.

He penned the simple missive for the day: "Unremarkable. No disturbances." The same thing, day after day.

A knock disturbed him. Ah, Wynne. "Come," he said.

The door creaked open slowly, and impatience flickered through him. Where was the industrious, assertive Wynne?

His breath caught. It wasn't Wynne. It was her. Miranne.

"S-s-ser Drass?"

"Yes?" he asked, trying to keep the tremor from her voice. What was Wynne thinking sending this young woman in here? The poor creature was trembling like the last leaf clinging to the last branch of the fall.

"I-I-I'm.. Wynne said… she wants… I'm supposed to…"

He waited. He knew she stuttered. She had since she'd arrived. He would never belittled her about it as the others did. It was a big joke around the tower. But not to him. It endeared her to him in a way he didn't understand.

It made him want to protect her, instead of protecting from her. Who needed protection from this gentle, kind creature? This mage… this quiet, shy, retiring mage?

"…supposed to give you… t-t-tell you, t-tell you the bed count." She swallowed compulsively and grabbed her robe, as if it could protect her from him.

"All present?" he asked, to make it easier for her so that she wouldn't have to spell it out for him. He didn't really need her to do so.

"Yes, S-s-ser," she said.

He sat back and drank in the sight of her for a moment. She was slender, but surprisingly well endowed. Not that he'd looked! He hadn't looked!

Not every time, he allowed.

Strawberry colored hair curled around her shoulders, and a light sprinkle of tiny freckles covered her skin. She was pale, even more than most—and that said a lot in the Tower where sunshine was a privilege and not a right.

"Thank you, Miranne," he said.

She jumped, as if shocked that he knew her name. Then she scurried away, and he felt a sense of relief and yet disappointment run through him. At least he wasn't ogling anymore.

Ogling was bad. Right?


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3: The Enchanted Templar

For the next three days, Miranne would appear at his door, like clockwork. In fact, she was so prompt and exact that it was almost unnerving.

He couldn't help but think, "Where is Wynne?" but he didn't ask her. She'd probably dart out the door screaming if he said anything to her that she didn't expect. But, on the up side, she was stuttering a bit less each day.

He happened across Wynne in the corridor on the fifth day, stopping to speak with her.

"So why are you sending the apprentice to my door?" he asked. It wasn't protocol—at all.

"Her name, Ser Drass, is Miranne. And you know it." Was she chastising him like a recalcitrant boy? Indeed.

"Yes, Lady Wynne, of course," he told her. He'd always called her that. Somehow it seemed right to him. She had always seemed familiar and almost even like family to him.

In fact, there were times when he wondered if she'd ever had a child. Despite the differences in their coloring, they shared so many qualities—but no. It was, at best, wishful thinking. He was silly to even ponder it.

Yet here he was, more than thirty years old, and he couldn't help but sometimes imagine she was his mother.

He shook his head, dismissing the idea, persistent though it was.

"If you would prefer that I do it myself, per protocol, I will of course do so," Wynne told him, lifting an eyebrow at him.

Then he wouldn't see Miranne every evening—his favorite part of the day now. "If you're busy with other duties, I'm sure it won't hurt to allow someone else to perform such a simple task," he told her, working to word it without displaying his eager hope that she would continue to send Miranne.

"Hmm," Wynne said. "As you say."

A month. He had a month before he and Wynne rotated away to other parts of the tower.

He'd see Miranne every evening for a month. His heart sang like a schoolboy's with his first crush.


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4: The Enchanted Templar

That evening, when she arrived, he told her, "Please come inside. It's a bit unnerving to have you standing over me in the doorway."

Any excuse to get just that much closer to her.

She crept into the room—what other word for the way she slipped in as if about to run any second—and sat primly on the edge of the hard brown chair across from him.

"Ev-ev-everyone… everyone's accounted, S-s-ser," she stammered out, looking down at hands that whirled and squirmed in her lap.

Maker, she was so terrified of him. It was positively unmanning, was what it was. Was he so dreadful? Ogrelike?

"I won't hurt you," he told her softly. "It's my job to protect you, not harm you." Unless, of course, you decide to become a blood mage or you get possessed. But, other than these minor, measly concerns… the thought hung in the air between them.

"I… I know," she told him, then fled the room.

Well, started to, anyway. But her foot tangled with the chair—and the chair won. She sprawled face-first into the hard, cold stone floor. How he hated this tower and its inhumane coldness!

Rushing around the desk, he helped her up, pressing her down into the chair. Kneeling in front of her, he started to pull her woolen slipper off.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she squeaked like a mouse when she was surprised, he thought, the idea making him grin a bit.

"I need to make sure you're okay," he said. "I can't allow a mage to be wounded on my watch, now can I?"

He wanted an excuse to touch her. But he wasn't going to tell her that.

If ogling was bad, then touching was… well. It was anathema.


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5: The Enchanted Templar

He pulled his gauntlets off and ran his hand over her ankle, seeing only a slight welt where the chair had caught her. He rubbed it gently, soothing the angry red skin with a touch.

She gasped and he looked up, realizing what he was doing. Was he blushing now? Didn't he outgrow that ten years ago?

No, it would seem that he hadn't.

Her eyes met his, and he was surprised to see something there that he'd never expected or imagined. Her lids had dropped, giving her a hooded, sensual look. His hand stilled on her leg, and he wanted more than anything in the world to stand up and kiss her blind.

Idly, as he looked at her, he let his thumb rock back and forth, caressing the welted skin. She gasped again, and he realized what he was doing.

He let go, reluctantly. He picked up her slipper and helped her put it back on.

Rising, he pulled her upright. "Okay to stand on it?"

She nodded, not speaking.

"Everyone accounted for?" his voice was gruff and she flinched. If only she knew why he couldn't control his voice… he would be defrocked and imprisoned.

Templars couldn't even look, much less touch!

"You should probably go," he said, whispering it.

She nodded, gulping for air. He felt that way, too. Doubtless for a different reason.

He was a cad. He was supposed to protect her, not assault her!

He smiled to let her know he wasn't chastising her. Her eyes flew wide, and then she smiled back. That smile melted his heart. It was shy, and surprised, and joyful.

He didn't watch her go. He had to catch his breath from the impact of that smile.

Smiling, like that, was probably even worse than touching!


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6: The Enchanted Templar

The next day found him standing again in the hallway. He rotated in and out with his men. Being the senior Templar on the wing for that month, he didn't have to stand duty every day.

Or, better said, he wasn't allowed to stand duty every day. If he did, they would know.

They would know he wanted to see one of the women. They would know he wanted to be there for a reason.

He wanted to see her. He wanted to watch her rush past, her books clutched to her chest like the new, terrified littles.

She would scurry past, and he would stand for another hour or two, lost in thoughts of her.

There she was, coming down the hallway. She wasn't carrying her books as she usually did, pressed against her like a shield against the world. She was reading one, her brow furrowed between two red bows.

She looked up in surprise as he shifted his weight, and caught his eye. Her eyes darted over to Ser Willem, who was turning in circles, apparently trying to fix a buckle in the back of his armor.

Then, she smiled at him.

Her eyes darted back to Ser Willem, and she scurried away, faster than usual.

Andrew felt like he'd been sucker punched in the gut. She was so beautiful, so innocent, so sweet.

Ser Willem's laugh pulled him out of his reverie. "Darkspawn take it, she's terrified of you, ain't she? Though, I think she's terrified of her own shadow, but she's extra scared of you. I don't think I ever seen her take off like that." He laughed again.

All Andrew could think was that he was glad Ser Willem hadn't seen that smile. That beautiful smile, meant only for Ser Drass…and no one else.

Because Maker help him, if anyone saw that pure, perfect smile, they'd surely make that illegal, too.


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7: The Enchanted Templar

The next day, Wynne was to bring in the list of infractions for the week. Andrew sat behind his desk, waiting for her to arrive. He hoped his body would cool off before she got there, because ever since yesterday, he hadn't been able to focus on anything except Miranne.

He didn't want to think about anything else. But he had to. His body was distracting him with signals he'd thought long ago dredged out, ripped from him by necessity and brutal training.

The door creaked, and he looked up. It wasn't Wynne.

He wondered why Wynne was putting him in this tenuous position. Perhaps she thought that he was too imposing, and Miranne too meek for anything untoward to ever occur. Whatever the reason, he was grateful to her.

She had sent Miranne with the ledger of infractions for him to look over and deal with as he saw fit.

Miranne floated towards the desk. Oh, no, she was walking. But she always floated when she walked, didn't she? He looked at her solemnly, trying hard to keep his mind where it belonged—on unruly apprentices and misbehaving Templars.

She gazed back at him steadily. "W-wy-wynne wanted me to… to… to give you these," she told him.

"Thank you," he said, and stood up to see her off.

He wracked his brains to try to find a way to keep her there, but nothing came to him. He couldn't discuss the infractions with a student the way he could have with Wynne. What excuse did he have to keep her there?

As he stepped around the desk, intending to hold the door for her, she backpedaled away from him, looking flustered and even slightly unnerved.

She backed into a chair and started to fall. He dodged forward, catching her and pulling her against him. She gasped at him, her eyes wide and surprised.

He cursed the Maker. He cursed the Templar smith. He couldn't feel a damned thing through his armor. He wanted to feel her against him more than he'd ever wanted anything in his entire life.

His head swooped down and he was kissing her before he even realized he'd had the thought. One hand pushed the door shut, the other pulled her closer. Then he tangled his hand in strawberry hair, pulling her closer and delving into her sweet lips.

Kissing was an unforgivable sin.


	8. Chapter 8

Part 8: The Enchanted Templar

Surely he would go to the pits of the Fade for what he was doing. He would drown in vomit or some such—who came up with this stuff?—and he would regret this kiss…

No. He would never regret this. She was soft, yielding, sweet. She smelled of flowers, and she tasted of rain and fields and daylight. He remembered them from his youth.

Her blue eyes stared into his when he pulled away, looking down at her.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. Then he kissed her again. He had to show her how sorry he was that he'd kissed her…

He teased and tasted and felt her straining against his body. She wanted him as he wanted her!

"Maker preserve us, it's not right," he groaned, tearing himself from her lips only with an effort.

He was so glad he hadn't been wearing his gauntlets when she came in this time. He'd been taking them off in the evenings, but not during the day. This time he had, in preparation for the ledger taking.

Now he could run his fingers through her hair and touch her face.

"If we weren't… what we are… I would grab you up and run away," he told her hoarsely, his voice deepened by his desire and his longing.

A tear slipped from her eye, and his heart twisted and jerked inside him, skipping a beat.

"No, no, don't cry," he begged her. "I don't think I can bear to see you cry!"

He wiped the tear away. "Miranne, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

Her finger silenced him, and his head was pulled down to hers. It was a bold move for any woman, he thought. But especially so for his Miranne.

"I love you," he told her. "I can't remember when I fell for you, it's been so long."

"I l-lo-l-love you, too," she managed, managing to look even more shy than usual.

"Oh, Maker," he agonized. "It's not right. It's just not right. The Tower, the isolation… it's inhumane!"

The loneliness. The loneliness was a cruel punishment for being a mage—or a Templar.


	9. Chapter 9

Part 9: The Enchanted Templar

He broke away from her, groaning and running a hand through his hair.

"You should go, before I lose all ability to control myself," he told her softly. He ran a hand down her cheek again, pulling her close and wishing he could protect her from the Tower, from the loneliness, from the world.

When he released her, she slipped away through the door, looking back at him with blue eyes filled with tears… tears and a gentle smile.

She understood. Darkspawn take it, she understood, and she shouldn't have to. He shouldn't have to.

But so well trained and indoctrinate was he, that he never thought to try to escape. It was impossible. He of all people should know that—he was one of the people that made it impossible.

So he returned to his desk and tried to focus.

The next morning was cold and damp, and he was in a bad way. He'd been plagued all night by dreams of Miranne being taken by Darkspawn and Maker-knew-what-else. And snakes.

He hated snakes. Why did he have to dream about them?

He trudged up the tower steps to the meeting room. Today, all the senior Templars were to be there to guard the halls of the meeting room. The apprentices in particular liked to sneak up and learn what the meetings were about. But this one was important, so there would be no eavesdropping today.

He paced the hallway as the hours stretched. He thought of one thing only… the one thing he shouldn't have been thinking of.

Then the Fade broke loose. Pandemonium erupted inside the meeting room, and Templars and mages alike poured forth. "Run!" screamed one panicked senior mage.

Miranne! The thought plunged Andrew into terror. If something terrible was happening, she was surely in danger. He sprinted towards the stairs and down and around. And around. And around.

The tower echoed with magical detonations, explosions of arcane power that echoed through the halls. Screams and panicked bodies flew past him, as he raced for the source of his heart…

Blood mages be damned, he was going to save the woman he loved.


	10. Chapter 10

Part 10: The Enchanted Templar

He rushed into the room, shocked to find it empty. Where would she go? He had rather expected to find her hiding in an armoire or a closet or something, but the room looked still and undisturbed.

Then he thought, what if she had gone to his rooms, fearing for him as he had for her? He sprinted back up, rushing with all haste to sling his door open.

And there she was. Not hiding as he would have expected, but standing in a too-thin gown, ephemeral in the cool air of the tower. He shut the door and rushed in.

"Andrew," she cried, her voice oddly resonant. "I've been waiting for you! I'm so afraid!"

He rushed to her and held her, fighting a nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong.

"Come with me," he told her, throwing a cloak over her shoulders.

They'd made it! They were out! He looked back over it all, and it seemed like nothing but a dream. They'd run from the Tower before the Templars had realized there was something wrong, and now they were standing at the altar.

He was marrying the woman of his dreams!

She said her vows without hesitation, and he stared at her. When had she stopped stuttering? It was so endearing. He found he rather missed it. But oh well, he wanted her to be happy, and surely she was happier without it.

He found himself looking back on those first two years of wedded bliss with a great deal of longing. "He's just like his mother," he told Miranne. "Too full of energy for me to keep up with."

She laughed, a purring, sweet laugh. "You keep up just fine," she told him suggestively.

He kissed her over their son's head.

"I'll let you prove it later," she told him, arching one of those perfect red brows at him.

He couldn't help but smile.


	11. Chapter 11

Part 11: The Enchanted Templar

There were two of her.

"S-s-ser Drass! Don't l-l-listen to her! She's a de-demon!" one of them said.

"My love," said the other, "would I ever call you Ser Drass? How can you listen to her, you love me!"

He was so confused. Who was she? What was he supposed to be doing? Where were their children?

"P-p-please!" the new Miranne cried. The old Miranne? "Sh-she-she's got you enthralled! I-I-I love you! Please wake up!"

"How did you get here?" he accused her. "You shouldn't be here!"

"I o-o-overdosed on Lyrium p-potions!" she said, desperation in her voice. "It was the o-only way to get to y-you!"

"P-please!"

"Oh, nonsense," the other Miranne said. "You love me. Don't let this demon fool you! You've been free of the tower for years! We have children, are you going to abandon the children?"

"Miranne stutters," he told her, understanding dawning. "She has always stuttered."

The other Miranne bristled. "I make you happy! I am perfect! I'm the perfect lover, the perfect wife, the perfect mother! I gave you what you wanted, the perfect woman and family!"

"It's the imperfections of life that make it most worth living," he told her. "Her stutter is beautiful. It's part of her. It's adorable and is one of the many things I love about her."

The other Miranne whirled and spun, turning into a desire demon. "You will not escape me! Just as those who thought to rescue you turned and left you with me, so will you come back under my thrall and stay here!" She blasted Miranne and knocked her to the ground.

Then she turned on Andrew.

He slashed at her, hating her with his whole heart. "S-stop!" the demon cried, trying to trick him. "S-ser Drass, it's me! P-p-please!"

"I'll not be fooled again," he roared at her, and slammed the shield into her, staggering and driving her back. "You can't trick me this time, monster!"

He fought her with every ounce of his strength, even when she split apart, mirroring herself, he still fought.

Finally, she fell before his onslaught, and he ran to Miranne, helping her to her feet. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yes," she said. "I-I-I'm so glad you didn't f-fall for her tricks."

"Let's get out of here," he told her.


	12. Chapter 12

Part 12: The Enchanted Templar

"Er, how do we get out?" he asked her.

"W-w-we must find the p-portal," she said.

He helped her up and searched until he found it. Picking her up, he ignored her protestations as he carried her to it and stepped through. He found himself standing in his apartments, and saw her lying nearby.

Picking her up again, he carried her once more, paying to the Maker that she would pull out of her lyrium coma.

He was almost out of the tower, hoping to use the confusion to get out and free them from the Tower. He ran straight into a group of people he didn't know. His heart sank until he saw Wynne with them.

"Ser Drass! You escaped the desire demon!" she said, obviously surprised. "I'm so relieved." She waved her companions, including, of all people, Irving, through the door.

They went out into the Tower entry, and he found himself alone with Wynne, Miranne cradled in his arms.

"You love her, don't you?" Wynne asked him.

He nodded, unable to deny it to this woman who meant so much to him.

"I had a son, many years ago. The Chantry took him, but I've never forgotten him, and I've never quite recovered from losing him. I wouldn't wish that pain onto anyone. Everyone should have the right to love," she reached out and placed her hand on his cheek.

"If I had the chance, I would help my son escape the life forced on him, and me, and the woman he loved." Then she put her finger against her lips and motioned for him to follow.

The group she was with was talking to Gregoior and Irving. All the Templars were gathered around, cheering. The crisis was over, for the most part. But one of the Templars was not pleased, shouting that the Circle had to be cleansed and all the mages killed.

Andrew's arms tightened around Miranne. No!

Wynne opened the front door and shooed him out. He slipped through and heard it close behind him. The boat lay unattended on the beach. He carefully laid Miranne down in it and slipped into the water and away.


	13. Chapter 13

Part 13: The Enchanted Templar

She awoke several hours later, sitting up and clutching her head.

She looked up at him, then up at the sky. "Ou-ou-outside?" she breathed in surprise.

"We're running away," he told her. "They're going to kill every mage in the tower because of what happened. I couldn't let that happen."

"Y-you saved me," she said, matter-of-factly.

"No," he said, "you saved me."

She smiled, that beautiful, perfect smile that he loved so much. It tugged at his heart.

It was rough going, but they found their way to the Korcari wilds. There, he built them a basic shelter. It was hard work, but it felt good to swing an axe instead of a sword. To build something, rather than tearing it down.

To protect, instead of imprison.

"Y-you're working so hard, I thought you might like some water," said a familiar voice behind him.

"Thank you, beautiful," he told the woman he loved more than life itself.

Her stutter had decreased as she'd gotten more comfortable around him, though it was still there. He was pleased, oddly, that she was becoming confident enough around him to speak more comfortably.

He took the drink and then noticed the look she was giving him. That look like she wanted to devour him.

He grinned wolfishly at her, and she shrieked and ran in pretend terror. He chased her and captured her, careful to break their fall with his powerful arms.


	14. Chapter 14

Part 14: The Enchanted Templar

She laughed up at him, and he kissed her. He couldn't stop himself. Now that he could kiss, and touch, and smile without shame, it was all he wanted to do.

She arched beneath him, curling and wrapping around him. He suddenly felt an urgent need to do more than just kiss—much more.

His hand slipped down to her breast, and he looked into her beautiful blue eyes as he teased the nipple through her robe. She gasped and her eyes darkened, her red hair spilling around her in the grass.

His head dipped down and he kissed her again, tugging and pulling at her robe. Within moments, he had it off, and she was tugging at the leather thong of the breeches he was wearing.

They were going to make love right there, in the middle of the forest, under the bright blue sky. It was perfect.

Kneeling, he pulled her up onto him, and kissed her yet again, running his hands up and down her back. He cupped her butt, pulling her closer as she wrapped her legs around him.

"I love you," he whispered to her against her neck as he trailed kisses down it.

"I love you, too," she said, perfectly. He tried not to let the unjust suspicious flow in. This was her, and it was real and it was beautiful.

He lifted her up slightly, licking and suckling at one breast, and then the other. Red hair flowed down her back as she threw her head back and clung to him, crying his name—his real name, Andrew, in a stuttering gasp.

He would never be Ser Drass again. And that was exactly the way he wanted it.


	15. Chapter 15

Part 15: The Enchanted Templar

He stopped, looking up at her. "This is going to hurt, you know."

He knew she was a virgin. He knew every indiscretion that ever happened in the Tower while he was there, and she had never once been the subject of that gossip.

He didn't want to hurt her, even this time.

"I k-k-know," she said, and she looked slightly fearful.

"Never again, though. I promise," he told her. He tilted her chin so she couldn't look away. "Never again after this time will I hurt you. I swear it."

She nodded, her eyes wide.

He lifted her butt and positioned himself with some difficulty, before thrusting deeply into her in a swift, rough thrust. She cried out, her face a mask of surprised pain. He pulled her against him, rocking her and soothing her.

His heart ached.

"I-I'm okay," she said tremulously.

He started moving inside of her, and she moaned. It was a good moan, though, this time, not the startled cry of pain from before. He rocked his hips again, lifting her and impaling her with on his erection.

She moaned again, and he gave up all patience. He thrust in and out of her with abandon, thrilling to her cries of passion, grunting and thrusting freely, until his arms grew weary.

Then he lowered her onto her back in the grass and did it again, sliding his hand between them to explore her. When she climaxed and her head arched back while her body arched towards him, he found himself releasing as her body spasmed around his penis, milking him and drawing his cum into her as if it were a gift.


	16. Chapter 16

Part 16: The Enchanted Templar

She was screaming and crying. He had even thrown a vase at him! He didn't even know this harridan that was carrying on inside the cabin.

"It's normal," said the farmer whose wife had come to help with the birth. "You should have heard Betsy when our first was born." He laughed and flicked the straw into the grass. "Was a real monster, she was. Thought I'd be kicked from the house after that, I did."

Andrew sighed. "I really hate to see her suffer."

"You jes wait," the farmer said. "That babe comes out, an' she'll be a dif'rent woman."

He didn't say it, but he didn't want a dif'rent woman. He wanted Miranne back. Now. Not a shrieking, screaming stranger. Who would have thought his meek, mild, gentle Miranne could turn into such a harpy!

Then a sound came through the window. A soft, wailing sort of mewl. He threw the door open and rushed inside.

"Fer shame!" the farmer's wife said. "Ya didn't even let me clean 'im!"

"It's a boy?" he said, awed. He had a son!

"Aye, an' a brawny one, too."

The woman bustled around, but Andrew had eyes only for his wife and son. He had everything he ever wanted. He had family, and a beautiful, sweet wife who even now smiled at him. He was so happy that he had remembered to get her phylactery on the way out of the tower.

No one would ever find them this deeply in the wilds. It was a hard life, but it was a good life.

_As stated, I am always deeply grateful to anyone who takes time to let me know they enjoyed it. Isn't every artist grateful for a little appreciation? :)_


	17. Chapter 17

_A huge thanks to Harmakhis, who had read the story over on kink_meme where I first posted it as a request fulfill. I completely missed a chapter that really makes (or breaks) the story. 1 million intranetz cookies for Harmakhis. :D_

Part 17: The Enchanted Templar

"J-J-Jack, you get back in here! It's nearly b-bedtime, and I won't have you making a mess!"

Andrew laughed and grabbed a bit of the bread she was slicing. "H-hey!"

"He's out of control entirely. You should spank him or something," he told her with a grin.

"Y-you spank him," she said, waving the knife vaguely in his direction.

The moment was so perfect that he considered something he hadn't for years. Pulling her against him, he kissed her. "Sometimes, I feel like I'm back there in the Fade. It seems almost indecent to be this happy."

She touched him gently on the cheek, her eyes filled with sadness and understanding. "I-I'm sorry you had to g-go through that."

He hugged her tighter and then let her go. Walking around the cabinet, he pulled the front door open and yelled for Jack.

"I'm right here, dad, you don't have to shout. Look what I found!"

Andrew looked down right into the face of a snake. With a surprised bellow, he jumped back, loosing a smite before he thought to control it.

"Ouch! A-andrew!" his wife protested.

"Sorry, sorry!" he said. Maker, he hated snakes.

Then he felt relief pour through him. It was the imperfections in life that made it worth living.

"Up to bed now, scoot!" he smacked Jack on the butt to send the child scurrying for the stairs, the snake long since terrified back into the grasses.

"Sorry dad," the boy said as he scampered up the stairs.

"Did you hear something, my love?" he asked Miranne.

"T-t-there's someone at the door, I t-think," she told him. "You go read them a s-story, and I'll see who it is."

He walked up the stairs, proud of his work. After Dace and Angee had arrived, the house had become too small. He was almost to the top when Miranne cried out.

"Help, my l-love, there are b-bandits at the door!"


End file.
